


The Sweet Days of Summer

by Mutie (Chiropter)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Toddlers are cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiropter/pseuds/Mutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad's observations on his son's very first friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweet Days of Summer

John Egbert first met Dave Strider at a small community park in Washington, D.C, when he was five years old. It was a sunny day in mid-June, and the playground was full of screaming children, jumping all over the climbing frames and over each other as exhausted parents sat in the shade. Edmund Egbert was among them, though he was not truly of them- not for him was the chattering of mothers by their prams, nor the anxious observations of new parents as their darlings took the first faltering steps into the world of independence. He chose instead to sit against a tree, smoking his pipe and smiling as his son toddled across the hot tarmac towards him, a huge smile plastered across his chubby face. Behind him walked another boy, about the same age. He was small and pale, with a spattering of freckles on his face and neck, and hair so blonde it was almost white. He was also wearing, Edmund noted with a hint of disapproval, the most ridiculous pair of shades he had ever seen. Pointy, and far too big for his face.

“Dad, dad,” John shouted urgently, speeding up a little. The elder Egbert winced and stood up, certain the child was about to fall, but he simply launched himself straight into his father’s arms with a ‘whumph’. The kid with the shades caught up with him, looking indignant.

“Dad, dad,” repeated John, “he said he doesn’t like ice cream!”

The other boy huffed, pouting a little.

“It’s nasty and cold. I don’t think I want that,” he said seriously, peering up at Edmund curiously from behind the shades. He was badly sunburnt; if this had been his son, he would never have allowed him to play in the sun without sunblock, especially considering how pale the child was. His skin was peeling slightly, and as he raised a hand to scratch his forehead a small flake of it fell onto his nose, making him sneeze.

“I don’t think you shouldn’t like ice cream,” John said, equally seriously, and gave the other boy a tiny shove. The shaded kid shoved back, slightly harder, and John yelled loudly, his eyes widening in shock. He stared mutely from the boy to his father, his mouth open,

“Dad, he pushed me!”

“You pushed him first, son. You shouldn’t do that. It’s very naughty; you have to apologise.”

John stared.

“But, but, he pushed me and it hurted my arm! Look, see, it did!”

He held out his arm, but Edmund ignored it (after a quick glance told him it was undamaged), instead fixing his son with a stern gaze. John looked outraged, but grudgingly turned to the other boy, who had by now lost interest, sat himself down and begun pulling up clumps of grass in his tiny fists.

“I’m sorry for pushing him even though he started it and now he hurted my arm.”

The sunburnt kid just stuck a finger up his nose and yawned silently. John, apparently satisfied with this, plonked himself down beside him and also began to tear up the grass. Soon, the two boys had made a pile of it, and were giggling madly at their wittiness as they took it in turns to pat at it. The kid with the shades tossed a handful in John’s face and John spluttered a bit before picking up a handful of his own and throwing it back, laughing. Soon they were a screaming mess of flying grass- trying to rub it into each other’s hair and stuff it down each other’s shirts as if this were the most hilarious thing in the world, rolling it into crude balls and bouncing it off each other’s knees. It made Edmund smile, but it also made his heart ache. He wished John’s mother could be here to watch her son.

“Hey, kid, what did I tell you about getting your clothes all messy and shit? I’ve gotta clean those, y’know, and it ain’t exactly cheap-“

Edmund turned to see who had spoken. It was a young man, probably still in his teens by the looks of him, tall and blonde and wearing the same stupid shades as John’s new friend. He was watching the two boys scuffing in the grass with a look of exasperation. He noticed the older man watching him, and immediately his expression snapped back to neutral.

“My son and his friend were just engaging in a little tussle. I thought I should leave them to it. It’s healthy for children to get some exercise.”

“Right, yeah, ‘course,” mumbled the stranger, walking forwards to pick up the freckled kid by the scruff. He squirmed a little, still trying to get his handful of grass into John’s mouth, but after a moment he went limp and folded his arms.

“Ge’ off me Bro I’m playing with-“ he stopped as his brother dropped him unceremoniously on the grass in front of him, teetered a bit, then found him balance and continued, “ I’m playing with him,” he finished, pointing. John immediately jumped on him and latched on, enfolding him in a tight hug. Edmund smiled again.

“That’s my son, John.”

The boy nodded vigorously, trying to keep the information safe in his head. He pointed to himself and bounced up on the balls of his feet, John still attached to his waist.

“I’m Dave and my brother says I’m a cool- a cool- a coolkid.”

Edmund heard Dave’s brother groan, but he merely smiled wider. Bro made to steer him away, shooting what might have been an apologetic glance at Edmund, but Dave didn’t seem to be finished.

“John’s my-“ he broke off, looking distressed, clearly unable to express the intensity of the emotion.

“Special friend?” sniggered his brother. Edmund shot him a withering look, but Dave ploughed on:

“He’s my favourite,” he said, “’cause he’s real nice and he’s- he’s- he’s my favourite.”

It appeared he had said what he wanted, because he wandered away, muttering “he’s my favourite” repeatedly to himself as his bare feet slapped against the floor. John followed him, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, and Dave’s brother pulled a face in their direction.

“Look at them. So fucking cute and stuff. Shit’s gross.”

Dad just grinned, and started to whistle.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was hanging out with toddlers and just really needed an excuse to write about them and all the random stuff they do, okay? Okay.  
> Also, Dad is called Edmund because of an Anglo-Saxon king called Egbert, whose father was called Ealhmund and yeah.  
> Hopefully I will make this a multi-chaptered thing following the two of them sort of growing up together, with some Rose/Jade as well, but it depends on school and on motivation haha!


End file.
